


Through his eyes

by BoredomBeckons



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23511262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoredomBeckons/pseuds/BoredomBeckons
Summary: After accidentally finding his students sketchbook Angeal gets a unique look at the world through the eyes of Zachary Fair which changes his perspective in more ways than one.
Relationships: Zack Fair & Angeal Hewley
Comments: 35
Kudos: 143





	1. Angeal

**Author's Note:**

> Moving some stuff over from my ff.n account  
> Might add some art later

He discovered it by accident.

A part of him felt guilty, intruding on his students personal life without his permission or even knowledge was hardly honourable after all. But he reassured himself that the initial discovery was most certainly an accident.

He had been searching for a textbook the boy was studying, one he had mentioned having trouble with. Angeal as his mentor had naturally taken it as his duty to provide some additional tutelage and needed the book to prepare notes beforehand. The sketchbook had been balanced precariously on the desk; he would have left it undisturbed had an unfortunate jolt not sent it falling to the ground.

It opened on a page at the front and the dark haired SOLDIER was suddenly gazing into a pair of warm brown eyes, shining with laughter and kindness. Black hair framed and petite face tilted at an angle. The woman seemed to peer into his soul.

Under the image delicate cursive script wove its way across the page.

" _Always put out what you would like to get back; remember my sweet, a warm smile and a kind word can do more good than you can possibly imagine_ "

Angeal wasn't sure how he knew but he was certain this was Zack's mother.

She was beautiful.

Not just in appearance, something deeper, something in the way she was drawn seemed to capture her very essence, combined with the words the SOLDIER could tell this woman was beautiful by her very nature.

He felt an inexplicable surge of affection towards both the woman in the drawing and his remarkable student who had no doubt created this work of art.

For all his honour Angeal simply could not resist the urge to turn to the next page, desperate to see more.

If the raven hair, tan skin and loving smile weren't enough to show the gentleman peering out of the page was Zack's father the accompanying text left no room for doubt.

" _I steadied you as you took your first steps, caught you when you stumbled. Now you can run, run fast and free all on your own. My greatest joy in life is watching you become more than I raised you to be_ "

Angeal's breath caught in his throat, nearly overwhelmed with emotion. For the first time in years he found himself thinking of his own Father. A man he had never had a chance to know. Would he be proud of the man Angeal had become? Would he look at him like that? With that level of unhampered love?

He wondered what Mr Fair would think of him? Would he approve of the mentor his son was trusting to guide him in this harsh and dangerous environment, so far from the world he had grown up in?

Angeal hoped his students parents would like him because he already knew he would adore them. Maybe he would get a chance to meet them one day? He hoped so.

The next page showed a young woman with light brown hair and green eyes.

She looked sweet. It was really the only word he could think of. Angeal suspected there may have been something a little more than friendship between his student and this young woman, there was a level of detail and care in this drawing that indicated she was held in very high regard.

" _Everyone can sing_ " That decorative curving text declared " _Not always well, but everyone can sing, and everyone should if they have music in their hearts_ "

Angeal could see why Zack liked this woman. She had the same cheerful outlook on life that the young man himself had.

He kept turning the pages, working his way through a village worth of faces. Friends, teachers, neighbours and random acquaintances. All of them beautifully drawn, bursting with personality and each accompanied by a simple quote, some little titbit of opinion or advice they had gifted the young artist with. Something so valued by him that he had taken the time to preserve it here in exquisite detail. To keep with him always.

They came together, painting a picture of the world that had shaped Zackary Fair into the boy Angeal had met all those months ago and chosen from among the multitude of other promising SOLDIER wannabes as the one he would take under his wing.

This unexpected glimpse at Zackary's home life was warming. It was wonderful to know his student had been raised surrounded by such good people.

Tracing his eyes over each lovingly drawn sketch the kind SOLDIER wondered how the boy had managed to capture so much expression with just coloured pencil. It was clear that these images had to have been drawn from memory rather than from any photographic aide, the scenes were too casual, too relaxed to be posed. Zack certainly had a talent.

Angeal wondered why he hadn't known about it until now.

Caught up in learning more about the people who had influenced his protégé growing up, Angeal was probably more surprised than he ought to have been when he turned the next page to find an image of himself smiling up at him.

Although the drawing showed him crouching down, elbows resting lightly on his own thighs for balance the image seemed to dominate the page as though looking down on the viewer. Thinking about it a moment he realised he must have been crouching over Zackary as he lay on the ground. At the bottom of the page the same soft cursive he had read on previous pages sat below the image, the words somehow accentuating the intensity of the expression his drawn self was wearing, a strange mixture of sternness and teasing softened with a slight tilt at the corners of his mouth and a kindness that shone though his eyes.

" _Come on now, you can do better than that_ "

A flash of memory jolted though him at the words, a training session he had had with Zack a few months ago, when they had first begun training together. Although distant he could still remember looking down at his fallen student, the determined look in the teens eyes as he gazed up at him following his light-hearted taunt. He had no idea the moment had been so significant to the boy.

So that's how he sees me.

The realisation was shocking and it was a long while before he could tear his eyes from the image of himself, taking in every detail his student had managed to preserve in this one sketch. His other self looked remarkable; friendly and kind but with a strength and authority which showed clearly in his posture even as he crouched. On his back the Buster sword sat tilted to the side to accommodate for his position so low to the ground, he looked almost regal, a picture of confidence and strength but with a welcoming feel, supportive like he was drawing the viewer forward, wanting them to do better and telling them with an honest and open expression that he truly believed they could. It took Angeal a moment to realise he found the image inspiring and his breath caught in his throat at the thought. Do I really look like that?

Next to Sephiroth and Genesis he had always seen himself as rather plain and ordinary.

The man in that image was not ordinary.

He was something remarkable, someone to admire and look up to and Angeal found himself choked by the weight of the esteem his student held for him.

He wondered how long it had taken to draw, how long after that session it had been drawn and at what point the boy had decided to draw it at all. Did he know at the time? As he was laying there on the ground? Is that why the image was so detailed? Did he take that moment to remember everything he could, knowing he would be drawing it later? Thinking back Angeal remembered the boy rising almost instantly after he had spoken, bouncing to his feet with that relentless energy he was quickly becoming famous for and continuing the training session with a renewed focus.

He _had_ done better that day.

The pride he felt in that moment was overwhelming and it was all he could do to close the book and return it to its original place in Zack's room, unable to bear looking at any more of those astounding images at this time, unsure his heart could handle it.

Without intending to Angeal found himself in the bathroom, staring into the mirror at his own reflection and trying to reconcile the man in front of him with the one he had seen in that book. It was a difficult exercise and he eventually grew frustrated, beginning to feel arrogant and egotistical for wanting to see himself in such a way. Roughly switching on the cold tap he splashed some water into his face to calm down.

With the rush of cold his frustration ebbed away and the SOLDIER let his mind wander to his student, reminding himself the boy was due back soon. The man grabbed a towel to rub his face dry before stopping dead as he dropped the towel to reveal his reflection in the mirror wearing the same fond smile his image in the book had worn. The same kind sparkle that shone from blue eyes and had nothing to do with mako. It dropped away as soon as he noticed it, replaced by a look of astonishment but there was no denying it had been there.

Angeal knew he was a good man, he had always striven to be as much, and he knew many people admired him as a SOLDIER but he had never really considered himself beyond that. Never imagined that he might be admired by anyone simply for himself. And yet now he had seen himself through his students eyes Angeal realised with a sense of wonder, that he honestly felt proud of himself


	2. Genesis

He resisted the urge to look at the book again for a few weeks. Used every ounce of restraint he possessed before he went back. Taking the opportunity when Zack was out with friends to revisit those vivid images that had captured his attention so completely.

He barely spared a glance at the image of himself, afraid that if he looked at it too long it might change him somehow. Instead he turned to the next page, to see if there were any other images beyond his own, he hadn't checked last time; too overwhelmed to do anything but shut the book and get out of there.

There were other images. People from Shinra; classmates, instructors, the woman who worked in the canteen. All of them beautifully drawn.

What was it about this boy? What was it that allowed him to see the world the way he did? In a way that perhaps no one else could?

Angeal turned the pages slowly. Giving each image time to settle in his mind before he was ready to face the next.

He turned another.

He stopped.

Angeal had known Genesis Rasphodos his entire life.

He had seen him as a child, a teen, a man, a SOLDIER.

He had seen him happy, and angry, amused and afraid. Seen him lonely and sad, jealous and joyous, defeated and triumphant.

He had seen him through every up and down the man had ever faced and believed he knew every side of his friend better than anyone.

He had never seen him like this.

It was almost devastating to admit.

A glimpse of a man he knew so well but suddenly felt he didn't know at all.

There on the page before him, his friend was standing in the viewing room looking down onto the Cadets gym. That was clear even with how distorted the background was, an abstract mess of colours without detail that somehow managed to portray exactly what they were meant to without distracting from the main image at all. Genesis was facing the viewer but Angeal got the sense he had been looking through the window before that. Staring down into the pit of wannabes as the Red Commander had always called them.

Genesis's dislike of Cadets was almost as legendary as everything else about him. Most learned within their first day to steer clear of him, usually through word of mouth. Those who didn't hear the rumours or who were too stupid to take heed of them learned the hard way.

Like the other images this one had a line of text to compliment it.

To add context.

Angeal re-read the line a dozen times but it still didn't seem real. Maybe it wasn't? Maybe this was some work of fiction Zack had created? An imagined line from an imagined conversation. But in his heart he knew that wasn't true. This was real.

Genesis's true feelings.

" _I hate them because I still feel like one of them. Just a child chasing a dream that is too big and always just out of reach, feeling like no matter how hard I try I will never be good enough_ "

Angeal thought he had seen every side to Genesis Rasphodos.

But never before had he seen him look so...hopeless.

Yet even then that wasn't the whole picture. There was a light about the image, almost as if he was about to burst into flame without any ever being drawn.

It was an energy. A fierce burning energy that was so unique to Genesis Angeal could almost feel his friends presence in the room with him.

It was the energy that drove the spirited SOLDIER forward. Drove him to keep fighting against all odds. Always striving to be better. Never surrendering.

Angeal decided that it was time he devoted more focus to his oldest companion. To showing him how exceptional he really was.

To helping him see it himself.

There was a fire inside Genesis Rasphodos, and it was bright and unyielding and beautiful.

Angeal was determined not to stand by idly and let it burn itself out.


	3. Sephiroth

This was the tenth time this week he had done this. Invading his students privacy whenever the boy was out to peruse through a book he wasn't even meant know existed.

It had taken three days after he found the image of Genesis before the urge to see the sketchbook again had become too strong to resist.

The day he opened it again the curious SOLDIER had been slightly disappointed to find that his friends drawing was the last one, that there were no more of his students creations for him to see.

Yet he kept retuning. Drawn back time and again to stare at those beautiful images that were all becoming so familiar to him.

So here he was again.

He gazed down at the page, tracing the lines of each face, some he had only ever seen in print and others he had once known that had been forever changed for him.

Making his way through the world of people his student had captured in these pages, always skipping his own he went on and on until he reached the last. The one of his friend.

He had been spending more time with Genesis lately. Trying to help the man without letting on that he was worried. Finding ways to show the Red Commander how amazing he was in his eyes. Staring down at the lost and defeated image of his friend, he truly hoped it was working. He wondered how he had missed it. How Zack had seen the depths of the vibrant mans soul when Angeal himself had failed so completely. He was trying harder now. To see the way Zack sees.

If that's even possible.

Eventually the sight of those eyes always became too much and he would turn to the next page. Always hoping that another image might appear to him.

Every time he was met with a blank white page, harsh and empty.

Until one day it wasn't.

Once again his heart stopped.

It was Sephiroth.

It was beautiful.

It was...

...how to describe it?

The image of Angeal had been exceptional, a bold drawing which dominated the page making him look almost superhuman, so beyond the mundane figure he saw in the mirror each day; but Sephiroth...the silver General, a man who in everyday life emanated an aura of otherworldliness that mesmerised everyone who saw him...his drawing was beyond words.

As he had come to expect from this book it was Sephiroth as Angeal had never seen him before.

As perhaps no one had ever seen him. No one but Zack.

Zack who seemed to see things in a way no one else could.

He looked magnificent and remarkable as always but there was something else. Something that had somehow never occurred to Angeal before, something that shouldn't be unexpected but was.

He looked..… human.

The silver haired man was curled in an armchair, dressed casually in jogging bottoms and a t-shirt. A pair of pale feet curled under him on the cushions with bare toes poking out, hair draped over the arm of the chair where it tumbled down to pool on the floor.

He looked completely unguarded.

The pencil drawn image was not looking out of the page. The first picture in the book not to do so. Instead those extraordinary emerald cats eyes were focused entirely on a book which was grasped in the man's hands.

The direction of focus away from the observer did nothing to diminish the expression in those eyes though. They looked calm and peaceful. They looked content.

" _I like Samantha Keys books_ " the now familiar handwriting stated " _She always gives them a happy ending_ "

The simplicity was devastating.

He likes happy endings.

This man who had been raised for war.

Built for it.

Seen by everyone as nothing but a SOLDIER. A weapon.

But here he was. Looking so painfully ordinary.

So human.

Telling a boy who saw things in a way no one else could, that he liked happy endings.

Once again Angeal stared at the page and wondered how he could have missed something so big.

The SOLDIER's mind went instantly to his bookshelf in the next room and soon enough he found himself there; the sketchbook back in its place in Zack's room as he perused through his meagre collection.

Happy endings. That's what he was looking for.

Something joyous and upbeat he could share with the silver man.

He had always considered the General a friend but suddenly that felt like a lie; because like everyone else it seemed he had only ever seen the other-worldliness in the first SOlDIER. Never really looked beneath to see the man. But now he had seen him, thanks to Zack.

Seen him as he truly was.

Just a man.

Not average by any means but still undeniably human.

A man who liked happy endings.

Angeal grabbed three books. Ones that had always managed to make him smile. Personal favourites he had never thought to share before.

Without hesitation he made his way to the door. Instinct driving him forward towards Sephiroth's apartment where he knew the man would be at this time. How is it he knew the man's schedule yet didn't know the man himself?

Well that was going to change. Starting right now.


	4. Scarlet

Don't judge a book by its cover.

Angeal could remember his mother telling him that. Could hear her gentle voice speaking in that patient, kind way she had. Don't judge others Angeal, you never know what their story is.

He had always tried to live by those words. Tried to be kind and understanding.

He had failed.

He saw that now.

The smile on the page was sad, resigned. Someone who was accustomed to judgement.

From everyone, even him.

Where most pages in this book were dominated by the central image and contained nothing more than a short quote to compliment it, this one was reversed.

To the centre a passage of text took pride of place, the words carefully scripted and set out evenly within the white void of the paper. To the right the image stood; a tall, elegant figure leaning against the side of the page as though it were a wall, just as beautiful and carefully drawn as every other drawing had been, but for the first time it was the words and not the image that kept his focus.

He couldn't look away.

They were mocking him.

Accusing him.

He read them again.

_"40 Gil for a red dress._

_20 minutes of the presidents undivided attention._

_10,000 Gil extra in my budget._

_50 Gil to upgrade an infantry standard issue gun._

_200 more soldiers who go into battle with a weapon they can rely on._

_At least one mother who gets a phone call from her son instead of a letter of condolence._

_People may look at me and see nothing but a tart in a cheap red dress;_

_but I know what this dress is worth."_

Angeal shut the book.

He had never felt more ashamed.

The next day in the canteen Angeal asked Scarlet for the very first time if he could sit with her. She was surprised but graciously invited him to share her table. For the very first time they talked.

By the end of lunch the SOLDIER had learned more about the woman in the red dress than he had bothered to learn in the full four years he had known her.

He learned that she was intelligent, caring, and hard working. He learned that she owned a dog named Ralph that she adopted from a rescue centre. He learned that everything he had believed about her up until then was so far off the mark it was laughable.

He learned that he liked her.

Most of all he learned never to judge a book by its cover

...or a woman by a red dress.


	5. Lazard

The letters were distinct because they were so indistinct.

No fancy text or over-pompous markings, no morbid black border to declare it to everyone who saw it as a beacon of grief. Just plain manila letters.

Angeal knew what they were as soon as he turned the page.

A pile of them, plain and nondescript, stacked neatly on Lazard's desk. The composed blonde Director sat calmly behind the heavy wooden bureau, pen poised in his hand ready to place his signature on another one of those terrible letters.

It was a horrible moment for Zack to have captured.

That was Angeal's first thought.

The boy had a way of choosing the moments he preserved in these pages. Every person getting only one. One moment that revealed the true depths of them. It seemed unfortunate that this was Lazard's. The bearer of bad news. The worst news many people would ever receive.

It was a job Angeal did not envy but Lazard managed well enough. Didn't let it affect him.

Cold.

That's what Genesis called him.

He seemed to have an innate ability to detach himself from the task. To perform his duty with careful professionalism. It must be nice the SOLDIER had remarked once, to not be weighed down by emotion. To just switch it off.

His eyes drifted down to the bottom of the page and he began to wonder...

" _We lose SOLDIERs, they don't. They lose husbands, brothers, fathers, sons._

 _I write every one by hand. We owe them that much_ "

Cold.

That's what Genesis called him.

For the first time Angeal wasn't so sure.


	6. Reno

TURKS were TURKS.

It may sound like a foolish statement but it was true.

No matter where they were. No matter what they were doing. Whether they were wearing their trademark suits or nothing at all.

TURKS were TURKS. Always.

It wasn't a job. It was an identity. A way of life.

So sometimes it was easy to forget that TURKS were also people. That although it was their life now, it hadn't always been. They were not born TURKS.

Angeal knew that he had been at SHINRA longer than the redhead. Knew that he had been a SOLDIER longer than that boy had been wearing that suit; but looking at the young man, at the casual ease that he performed his role, it was so easy to imagine that Reno had been a TURK his whole life. To believe that he had always been there. As much a part of SHINRA as the building itself.

Until now.

" _Take it from a slum rat in a suit kid, life is hard; but if you're willing to fight for your dreams, there's no limit to how high you can rise._ "

Angeal wasn't sure how he felt about that.

Mostly because it sounded like something he himself would say.

Fight for your dreams.

He used that line so often he could probably patent it. It seemed somehow twisted to see it coming from a TURK.

The image stared out of the page at him just as the others had done. He stared back. The casual posture. The sly grin. He had seen it all before.

Hadn't he?

Intense eyes scanned the words once more. _Take it from a slum rat in a suit kid._

The slums were rough. Everyone knew that. They were a harsh unforgiving place where life was a constant struggle.

How old was this boy? 19? 20? Barely older than Zack.

He had lived there. Probably alone.

What kind of life must that have been?

Just a kid.

Not a TURK. Not yet. No training or expensive weapons. No team or partner to back him up. No suit to keep people at bay with the fearsome reputation it held.

Just a kid on his own. Dreaming of something better.

Did he want to be a TURK? Was that the dream he was talking about? Or was the dream just to leave? To rise above the plate and make something of his life?

To be more than another slum rat, alone and forgotten in the city beneath the ground.

Angeal tried to imagine that childhood. Tried to compare it with his own. All those days he had spent playing in the sun, running through the fields and the orchards of his home. His loving mother waiting for him with a warm hug and a hot meal. He tried to imagine a life without that. Without that safety. Without his mother. Without the sun.

Tried to imagine a life spent fighting for survival, dreaming of a way out.

The strength it must have taken for a boy so young to get himself from the bottom of the heap to become one of the most high ranking members of the presidents elite bodyguards in just a few short years.

He was so confident. So at ease with himself. Angeal had always viewed him as arrogant. Entitled. Acting as though he could do whatever he wanted just because he was a TURK.

But he hadn't always been.

It was so easy to forget that.

Reno wasn't born with that suit waiting for him. He had fought for it. Earned it.

Angeal didn't particularly like SHINRAs bodyguards, goodness knows their practices were often questionable; but he believed in dreams and staring down at the strong confident eyes of a young man who had achieved his dreams against impossible odds the SOLDIER couldn't help but feel a sense of deep admiration for the redheaded TURK.


	7. Cloud

With all he had heard of Zackary's Cadet friend, Angeal knew it was only a matter of time before the boy made an appearance in the book, so he wasn't surprised when he opened it one day to see blond spikes spread across the page.

Everything he had heard of the teen had painted a picture of a sweet young child in his mind. Eyes bright and hopeful like you would expect from someone striving to be a hero. Zack always told him animatedly how cute his young friend was, describing him as the little brother he never had, displaying an inherent desire to protect him.

Conversations with other soldiers who had encountered the child and instructors from his classes had supported this image of a naturally quiet and often shy figure of reasonable talent who was typically very polite and reserved.

That was not the boy he was looking at now.

He absently noted this was the only subject he had seen in the book so far where the person wasn't smiling. Even Genesis had worn a weak sad smile as he lamented his inner struggles.

Here a steely frown set delicate features into a look of stubborn defiance.

Over the last few months Angeal had heard several people comment on these eyes, not least Zack. He had been told they were beautiful. But staring into them now Angeal felt like he was drowning. They held no warmth or sparkle as many of the other images had. This gaze was fierce and harsh like a storm over the ocean.

Mesmerising.

After some time the SOLDIER managed to pull his gaze away from those eyes to look at the rest of the image and was horrified to see pale skin, which exposed through torn clothing was marred with an assortment of angry cuts and bruises. The boy looked like he had been through a war.

And Angeal would know, having seen plenty of people who had.

He had.

Strife had been drawn seated, his back up against a wall as he sat on the ground, one leg extended out and the other drawn up to his chest, arms draped loosely around the knee. The arms themselves were littered with scratches and what were very clearly defensive wounds.

The protective instincts of the honourable SOLDIER surged up until his eyes returned to that face.

Although as damaged as the rest of the body that face was set like stone.

The kid was clearly in pain but Angeal felt no pity.

Not when he was gazing into eyes so intense they looked like they could stop an army in it's tracks. This was not someone who needed pity.

The words below the image were different to those on previous pages, the soft gentle cursive he had grown so fond of was gone. Instead it looked as though the pen had been dragged across the page in anger, pressing just short of too hard.

Almost tearing the paper.

" ** _Let them do their worst, I'm harder to break than they think_** "

Angeal was inclined to believe him.


	8. Zack

Five years.

He had been this boys mentor for five years.

Where did the time go? How did they get here so fast?

Zack was graduating to First class tomorrow.

There was going to be a ceremony to mark the occasion. The older SOLDIER fixed his eyes on the new uniform that was already hanging on the back of the young man's bedroom door.

Angeal couldn't be prouder.

Yet at the same time the honourable man felt a distinct sense of loss. Zack was leaving. Not far of course. Just down the hall in fact but...Zack had been living in the spare room of his apartment for five years!

It just...wouldn't be the same without him.

On the man's lap the book was resting. Closed.

His hands ran over the cover fondly. Tomorrow this book would be moved out of his apartment and into Zack's. He would probably never get the chance to look through it again.

The thought was heartbreaking.

He turned the first page; blue mako eyes fixing onto those of Samantha Fair.

The first of his students drawings he had ever seen.

He remembered how overjoyed he had felt the first time he had seen that kind gentle smile in real life.

He remembered how nervous he had been when he met Zack's father, and how honoured he had felt when the man shook his hand.

He remembered the joy of walking about the town of Gongaga and seeing firsthand the beauty and kindness that had shaped his young student. The privilege.

Angeal continued to make his way through the book, turning the pages. Remembering. Memories of each person both before and after he saw them here. Every change in perception he had been forced to adjust to.

He remembered to look on Genesis face when Angeal had suggested he take on Zack's cadet friend as a student. Goddess knows he would never have even considered letting any other Cadet near the fearsome Commander.

But Cloud wasn't like any other Cadet, as Genesis learned the hard way, the boy matching everything the fiery man threw at him head on until the SOLDIER had been forced to admit he had underestimated the fierce blonde.

Cloud was now thriving under Genesis's care and the experience had given the redhead a renewed energy that Angeal could see burning brighter every day.

He remembered the smile Sephiroth had worn as he came to Angeal's office to return the book he had lent the silver haired man, excited and eager to discuss the story with his friend, asking if he had any others and recommending a few of his own.

He remembered how lovely Scarlet looked when he met her in the park to walk her dog, hair loose and wearing a simple outfit of jeans and an over sized t-shirt. How much more comfortable she had seemed in herself.

He remembered the tears that Lazard only just managed to keep in at Sergeant Bryans funeral. One lone drop escaping his control as he stood to deliver his speech. Voice just an octave higher than normal as he said goodbye on behalf of them all.

He remembered the genuine smile that had overtaken the redhead Turks cocky grin as Angeal nodded to him respectfully as they passed in the hall. Such a simple thing yet he knew it meant a lot to the boy who had fought so hard to be where he was.

He knew these images by heart. Like old friends.

People he knew better today because he had seen them through Zack's eyes. People he might never have truly known if not for these images.

The thought of never seeing them again was painful.

On and on he moved through those memories, feeling disappointed when he realised he was getting closer to the end.

The dark haired man turned to another page, one of his favourites, and let himself take comfort in chocolate brown eyes providing all the security and warmth of home.

He remembered the tears that had burned down his face a week after their return from a visit to Banora when he had found this image of his mother peering out at him.

She was perfect.

No new insight. No surprises.

Just his mother.

Exactly as he knew her.

This page had been a lifeline for him. A gift that had helped him through some dark days. Being able to feel her presence there with him when he needed her most. Or when he just missed her.

Turning that page for the last time was harder than any of the others.

Slowly he continued through. His last goodbye.

A part of him wished he could speak to Zack. Request permission to see the book again in future but he couldn't. Couldn't bring himself to confess that he had been betraying his students trust all these years. Invading his privacy.

Zack never spoke about drawing. Never told anyone about his astounding talent. It was private. These images were for his eyes only. Angeal should never have seen them.

But he had seen them, and they had changed him. Changed the world for him.

Finally the last image was in front of him, a soldier in Zack's class. Nice kid and as beautifully drawn as all the others but no one Angeal was particularly attached to, a disappointing end to an era really, and then it was gone.

Even still he continued to turn the pages. Eyes fixed onto white paper.

Blank space that would one day be filled with images he would never see.

People he would perhaps meet but never truly know. Never see, the way that Zack saw them. In that honest unfiltered way he saw the world.

Finally Angeal turned the last page.

He expected that to be the end; but was instead met with the eyes of a boy he had never seen before, set in a face he knew better than his own.

He was young.

A child.

A Cadet at the start of his career.

How many times had the SODIER looked through this book? How many hours had been spent gazing at these images?

How often had he flipped through until he reached the first blank page and closed it? Never looking any further?

This picture was old.

He knew that instantly and his heart broke at the realisation that it had been here the whole time. Hidden here on the last page.

Every time he had picked up this book and he had never seen it.

A face, young innocent and afraid, yet hopeful and determined.

The bathroom stalls behind him and faint lines slashed across the image like a whisper showed the image was a reflection.

Cadet Zackary Fair.

Barely sixteen.

Somewhere outside this room a man was preparing for his graduation.

SOLDIER First Class at last. But here Angeal looked into the eyes of a boy.

The words underneath were soft.

Barely there.

If Zack had pressed any lighter with the pencil they might not have been visible at all.

_"_ _You can do this."_

Angeal stared at them. Imagining his students voice, soft and yet sure. His whole future waiting before him, his every ambition nothing yet but a hopeful dream.

Zack was so full of energy. So full of life.

The thought of him being nervous, of doubting himself was simply impossible. Yet here he was, a young man, alone in a new city at the start of a terrifying journey revving himself up to face the world.

It was heartbreaking and yet beautiful, looking at this image from here, knowing everything that followed.

Angeal's heart swelled in pride as he thought of all his student had achieved.

First Class.

And he had earned it. Deserved it more than anyone.

Staring at that page the SOLDIER's mind reached out, urging everything inside him to find that boy. That boy in the bathroom, who was telling himself to be strong.

Angeal spoke his words softly, willing them across the boundaries of time and praying that somehow he might be heard...

"Yes you can"

He closed the book.


End file.
